Page 4 of My Ruthless Alpha

“Good for you, learning to stick up for yourself,” I chided while the game continued to play.

Ethan chuckled at that. “You guys and your ageism…as if we’re not all in the same league here.”

“You make it too easy.”

As the game went on, the two of us went from comfortable bouts of silence to jeering, complaining about our team's bad plays, and chattering aimlessly. We mostly shared our mutual irritation about how the game was unfolding, but either way, it wasn’t outside our norm.

Ethan and I started hanging out more one-on-one since we were the only single guys left between the six of us. The others joined us whenever they could, but between their mates, kids, and running their packs, they were too swamped to hang out as much as the two of us.

It could be disappointing sometimes, but we didn’t mind all that much. At the very least, we had our relative freedom, and as far as I could tell, I didn’t have anything to complain about.

I had my pack, company, brothers, and friends and was determined to be fine with that. I was in a better position than most in the grand scheme of things, and I didn’t want to be ungrateful about it.

Even if I found myself right in the middle of the scale of wanting to settle down and savoring being a bachelor. The guys were on one side, Ethan was on the other, and I was hovering somewhere between.

Over the years, I worked hard to craft the life I wanted. Everything was done carefully and meticulously, and I wasn’t about to risk it all just to appease the part of my inner wolf thatwanted to slow down and experience another aspect of being I hadn’t looked into too deeply.

Regardless of how I went about it, searching for a mate would only bring chaos, and I had already been somewhat scarred by that notion.

While the game played on the screen, lighting up the otherwise dim living room, a familiar scent filled the space before I caught his footsteps.

“Damn it, I missed the guys again?”

Glancing over at my youngest brother, Miles, I nodded. “Mhm. By about ten minutes.”

Miles sighed and shook his head before wandering over and dropping himself onto the couch, reminding me of how he used to when he was a kid. “I always do.”

“Good. They’re awful influences on you.”

Ethan chuckled. “It’s true.”

My brother just waved us off. “Can’t be any worse than Tyler’s influence.”

I scoffed. “Don’t remind me.”

While the rest of my life tended to be tidy and reserved, my brothers were anything but. The three of them were always getting themselves into trouble. Tyler, the second oldest, had an impossibly difficult streak for a while, and I spent a lot of time trying to rein him in. At the very least, he seemed to level out the older he got. Aiden was surprisingly moodier than Miles, but I attributed that to him being freshly twenty and still figuring everything out for himself. Miles, the youngest of us, still had that innocent, humorous outlook on the world, and while he could be naive at times, it only added to his charm.

Even if they could all be difficult in their own ways, I cared about them immensely, and everything I made for myself was also for them.

Of course, they were free to do as they wanted and explore their own lives, but I would always be there to provide for them whenever they needed it. It didn’t matter what kind of mess they got into; I would always look out for them.

Just like he owned the place, Miles made himself comfortable and joined in with us while we finished watching the game. Since he still lived with me, it was typical of him to invite himself, but I didn’t mind. It’s his house, too, after all.

I was just glad my brothers could still stand me as they got older.

Eventually, our night came to an end when Ethan decided to head back home, and Miles slipped upstairs to his room, leaving me to clean up the mess as usual.

With a sigh, I grabbed a flat box and gathered the empties left around the living room, grumbling to myself.

It was typical of them to get up and leave, not thinking twice about the mess. While I enjoyed having them around, the aftermath was definitely my least favorite part.

When the room was clean enough to satisfy me, I headed for the garage to leave the garbage out there, pausing to look over Miles’ Wrangler, which sat caked in mud, giving away how he had spent his evening.

Typical.

Letting go of another breath, I went to turn around and head back inside, but something stopped me. An odd sensation moved through my system and prevented me from leaving the garage.

I didn’t know what it was or what it meant, but the longer the feeling lingered, the more compelled I felt to lift the garage door.

---